50 Shades and Blurred Lines 8
by CockEyedGopher
Summary: Just when there's a "Happily Ever After" - or so it seems - sometimes Life has other plans...


Chapter 58

Nearly a week had gone by and Hope had yet to hear from Christian again. In fact, no one had heard from him again except Flynn, who was put in the unenviable position of having to reassure everyone that Grey hadn't been dismembered or thrown himself from a tall building.

Ana, overprotective and histrionic as ever, started to assemble a group of security staff and private investigators to find Christian anyway despite the good doc's updates; when Flynn got wind of the whole thing and contacted her husband, the message relayed was clear - I am fine, do NOT send anyone after me.

The sixth night, the phone rang at the Grey residence; and finally, the hysterical wife calmed down; and for a very happy hour, the Grey children were reunited with their father, who they'd been told was away on business. After that, Christian stopped and called his parents who gave them the predictable earful about his vanishing act; immediately after, their anger gave way to relief and eventually to small talk and shared laughter about some of his latest exploits in the last leg of his spontaneous "vacation", both parents being careful to avoid asking about the cause of his sudden detour. They knew better, and assumed - hoped - he'd tell them , when he was ready.

From there the phone made its way through a couple more hands - Mia almost talked his ear off; and Elliot strangely asked him if he'd gone to get a sex reassignment surgery.

"Yes, my inner woman kicked down the door and demanded to come out and play", Christian replied, his tone deadpan.

Elliot quipped saucily that he'd better come home looking "fierce", and that was that.

Except, one last call to make, and Christian didn't know how to do it; he felt uncharacteristically shy. Eventually he decided to send an email instead.

Hope didn't get around to checking her Inbox until the next morning, in the campus cafeteria while she was scarfing down scrambled eggs and pancakes bigger than her own head.

"Wish you were here."

Included was a photo attachment - Christian, beaming, surrounded by about 20 laughing, delighted children.

Chapter 59

Darfur was where Christian ended up, but it was not the first place he went. Initially, his compulsions led him someplace else entirely.

It was instantaneous. As soon as Hope exited his car that Monday afternoon, he slouched behind the wheel watching her disappear into the mass of bodies congregated on campus grounds, imploding as though some internal self-detonation switch had been activated. He peeled away from the curb down the street, then the freeway; barreling down random roads, his route nowhere near accurate as far as any of his typical destinations were concerned. In fact even _he_ didn't know _where_ he was going - he was just _going_.

Driving like a bat out of hell in a desperate attempt to hold onto himself and keep it together, or put a safe distance between himself and the rest of the free world before he destructed - even he wasn't sure which. At this point he wasn't capable of logical _thought_, just _experiencing_ - sensations, emotions, cycling through the negative ones exclusively, at breakneck pace, before experiencing some simultaneously, which was a _real_ ball; at one point he felt his mouth filling with saliva and thought he might puke.

After the pain had crested (during which time he realized dully that he'd been doing could only be described as body-wracking sobbing minus the waterworks) and plateaued, he regained the ability to think in a linear fashion, and contemplated doing a U-ie and going to the beach to get his bearings.

_No can't do that I took her there._

The farm?

_No can't do that; fucked her ther_e, he thought bitterly. It was at this point that he seemed incapable of feeling anything anymore; it was too much to process, and he went numb - just driving.

Around nine p.m. he wound up parked across the street from an old haunt. Somewhere along the way he'd stopped at an ATM and loaded his pockets full of cash; a crook's wet dream and a "60 Minutes" murder mystery waiting to happen.

He climbed out of the Audi and made his way to the of it, staring at the place. It occurred to this point that he'd been in search of some form of catharsis; relief - and there was only one way that ever seemed to work, and so here he was.

He wanted to beat, then fuck, the shit out of somebody. Canes; flogs; genital clips; fisting. _God help the first silly whore who smiles at me the wrong way_, he thought.

Suddenly he thought of his mother. He felt a mounting sense of unease and a deluge of scattered thoughts - doubts - kept him pinned exactly where he stood.

After a long time - a _long_ time - he climbed back into his car and took off, slowly, making a right turn, going past the BDSM club.

He didn't want to do it anymore.

From there he wound up at a shitty little bar four or five blocks away, knocking back enough whiskey to make him stumble like the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz; but he was a big guy, and it took alot to really fuck him up, and that's when he remembered everyone back home and that they were probably shitting themselves. He got out his cellphone.

"From there I ended up staggering over to a gross little motel next door and threw down what was probably way too much money for a room, and slept it off. When I woke up, all I could think, was Darfur. It's gorgeous here, and I'm always so immersed in whatever I'm doing after I land that I really don't have the time to worry about my own shit. Also, coming here always makes me realize too just how insignificant my stuff is compared to what they're going through, and helping out just makes me happy," he told Hope. It was five a.m., she couldn't sleep, and wanted to call him, more than anything. So she did.

She understood. "I love you", she said simply. "I just want you to be okay. Stay as long as you need to and do what you need to do so you'll be okay."

"I miss you like crazy; shit, I wish you were here. You'd love it, and everybody looks like you; you'd fit right in."

She laughed. He continued, "I'm okay though, I'm doing alright now, I'm dealing, anyway."

"We need to talk, but not over the phone, not while you're away. This isn't the time or the place. Just have fun, but I'd love to see you when you get back," she said hesitantly then added, "...if you want to."

That seemed to surprise him, and he got very serious. "You know I love you; that hasn't changed." Then he added sheepishly, amusement creeping into his voice, "Just because I went crazy doesn't mean I've lost my fucking mind".

Hope laughed so loud that passerby could hear her on Christian's phone, and turned to look at him curiously.


End file.
